What's that you say?

The first draft isn't due till April 15th?
Dave Olson, you are the best thesis advisor ever!

The Moment of Truth. What a fucker.

Very soon, I'll have to stop researching and organizing and start... writing. I hate that part.

Thesis (or not)

You're probably going to be seeing a lot more posts from me now, since I'm supposed to be writing my Master's thesis. The first draft is due April 1.

I'm writing about measurement in the nonprofit field--specifically, how grantmakers and foundations measure and evaluate "success" in this often-nebulous field. Details to come soon, as my procrastination becomes ever more frantic.

Here, have a picture of Linus in luxury:


Oh, and I have inadvertently grown Mushroom-Zilla. More soon.

Bonjour le monde!

We return (again). Wow, two and a half [ed: now three] months. What happened? Well, there was Christmas and the ensuing madness. Tony spent the Christmas week at his parent's house in Michigan, which was awful and led to us agreeing never, ever, ever to spend Christmas apart again. Then when he came back to DC, he brought a special present back just for me: a nasty Northern cold that robbed me of my voice and left me bedridden for days. But not in an interesting 19th-century heroine kind of way--more like a crotchety great-uncle who lays around and moans and never actually sleeps though he always claims to be tired, and who always wants to know "Where's my chicken soup? I said I wanted chicken soup BRING-ME-MY-SOUP-DAMMIT!"

Suffice to say, I am not a good invalid.

Then, even while I was recovering from the Plague, I got a new part-time job waiting tables at a local restaurant. The characters are, of course, novel-worthy subjects and I can't complain with the money, but the late nights kick my ass. For the first couple of weeks, I had to take an extra-long lunch break every day so I could nap--or I would visibly nod off in meetings and lose track of crucial details (like proofreading our ads). Now I schedule my naps. The Sunday afternoon doze had become A Priority, and woe to anyone who interferes with it.

You know what else has been kicking my ass? Winter. I was fine through Valentine's Day. But then it was Lent, a time of penance and sacrifice, and it was SO COLD, and I foolishly gave up tea as my Lenten sacrifice, and it's SO COLD, and there are no more holidays till Easter and I'M READY FOR IT TO BE SPRING WAAAAHHHH. Honestly, I've just given up. I wear a full layer of SmartWool under my clothes at all time and I put on my down parka even when I bike. You win, Winter.

We finally received our first heating bill this [ed: last] month and there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth, with the result that the heat for the house has been turned down to Arctic levels. Here's how the we're dealing with it:

Seriously, I drew the line and started running a space heater in my room when I noticed that Linus was visibly shivering.

And what else has been keeping me busy? Well, being miserable at my day job has kind of sucked all my energy away. I realized two weeks in that it wasn't going to be a good fit for me and determined to stick it out for at least a year, but I'm starting to reach the end of my rope. My boss isn't a bad person, but he's not a particularly good boss. And Marketing? Totally not my bag. But there is hope on the horizon, maybe! And look--much-deserving, ever-struggling Beth has a new job that she's excited about--so miracles really do happen.

Speaking of miracles:

Tony, as quiet and as essential to me as air.

Exhibit A in the Good vs. Evil debate

Taken over 6 months ago in Winston (ah, my lovely lost apartment!). He is now taller and more graceful, but otherwise pretty much the same.


As Tony Metro observed, "Obsessed with socks from an early age."

Good puppy? Evil puppy? Traffic light puppy?

You decide!

Gas attack!

After taking advantage of Nate and Rebekah's generous hospitality long enough, I realized it was time for Linus and me to find a more permanent temporary home in DC--one where I could have cats and ransom my beloved Pepper from my parents' house. Through my connections with a neighborhood maven, I heard of a beautiful townhouse for rent five blocks from where I was living. I jumped on the opportunity, advertised the other two bedrooms on Craigslist, and after a hectic four-week roommate-hunting period was all set to move in.

Then the day after we all moved in one of my roomies detected a gas leak. We thought it might be in the basement crawl space, so we brought some plumbers out. Three separate plumbers came out over the course of four (heatless and stoveless) days, took a look at the 12" x 18" entrance to the crawl space, and unceremoniously left. A fourth might have been willing to chance it, but discovered that the gas was running through illegal copper pipes and refused to touch the job for fear of liability issues.

Finally Plumber #5, clearly an outside-of-the box kind of guy, conducted a more systematic inquiry and found the leak--right by the gas meter, where anyone could have turned it off.

So now we have heat and--we hope--the problem is fixed. The owner (who didn't know about any of this before Plumber #4 pointed it out) plans to have all the illegal pipes taken out and replaced with...whatever it is you're supposed to run gas through, but obviously none of us is eager to do this in winter as it involved shutting off the heat for several days while contractors rip up the basement and, quite possibly, the kitchen. So we're going to try to get through the winter and hope nothing else happens. Not the ideal solution, but there it is.

Really makes you rethink the joys of home ownership.

Bad Car-ma

I've never had a serious accident in my twelve years of self-propelled locomotion, getting into far more trouble the rare times when I've had a car than during the many when I've relied on foot and pedal to get me around. I like to credit this to experience and skill, but I've recently been made rudely aware that my fortune is probably just rooted in damned good luck.

Yesterday during our morning walk, Linus got clipped by a car. We were waiting at a crosswalk for the light to turn green, Linus sitting automatically as he's been trained to do. The light changed, we stepped off the sidewalk, and a car zoomed out of the lane on our left and turned toward the spot where we were standing. I yelled and jumped out of the way and Linus mostly followed me, but not before the speeding vehicle smacked him on the hip and pushed him toward me.

I couldn't move, trapped by fury, shock, disbelief and post-crisis "what if" horror. The driver barely checked his speed--and perhaps his rear-view mirror--before tearing toward the next traffic light. Which was red.

If I'd had more presence of mind, I'd have punched the car, chased it down, gotten the license number... something. I will spend many days reliving that awful handful of seconds, regretting my paralysis. How can anyone be so stupid, cruel, unaware?

It didn't stop there. We took three more steps into the intersection and a car from the opposite lane took a left turn toward us, nearly hitting us before my wild gesticulations caught the driver's attention.

When we got home, I said a lengthy prayer of thanks over my oatmeal that these two moments, so blind and thoughtless, had not (as they so easily could have) tipped over the edge of tragedy.

Later as I biked to work (riding like a car in traffic as I've been taught to do by many a mentor), I nearly T-boned a driver who took a left turn into my path.

And then today, I was the one who got clipped: a driver sitting behind me at a red light wanted to turn right. Rather than waiting the extra millisecond to let me continue riding straight across the intersection, she zoomed around me and turned into my path without warning. Again I barely avoided injury, escaping with an audible THUMP of my wheel into her door and several undignified wobbles.

Here's the thing: this driver knew I was there--we made eye contact in the moment before collision. Did she think that my bike wasn't in motion, that I was also turning right... or that I didn't belong on the road and it was her job to "teach me a lesson"? I've encountered drivers like that before, particularly along Florida Avenue, one of the main roads in my neighborhood. It's that rage and easy destructiveness that makes me worry about cycling on the streets--and it's also why I don't own a car myself. I can never sidestep the reality that getting behind the wheel of a car instantly gives me possession of a deadly weapon.

So, if you drive a car, I'm begging you: please, please, please watch out. There are mothers and children, cyclists and runners and cute puppies with loyal Internet followings out there. If you ever have an accident, no matter whose fault it was, you will likely walk away and the pedestrian/cyclist/puppy will not. It won't be fair, but that's how it will happen.

It's that simple.

Pupdate #20 (Birthday loot!)

Here is a picture of Linus in The Chariot, long-sufferingly sporting the coat that his doting grandparents gave him for his birthday. He's also wearing the colorful new collar that was my contribution, though it isn't really visible.

I never thought I'd be the type to dress up my dog, but Linus gets cold during his trailer rides--he was visibly shivering by mid-October. Though his hair has grown in as much as it's going to, it is still so fine that his pink freckled skin is easily visible. And, of course, he has no body fat. I justify the dress-up by telling myself that Greyhound owners do it all the time.

And, hello, maximum cuteness! The sight of Linus in his tan coat with the red plaid lining and green corduroy collar is enough to mend broken hearts and promote world peace.

Hmm... maybe I should park him in front of the Capitol and see what happens...

Sometimes it really does happen that way

moarfunny pictures

You might have wondered about the handsome dark stranger holding Linus in the "Dog Is My Copilot" photo below. Well, he is the other reason I've been too busy to post recently and his story goes like this:

It was a Saturday in August, one of the hottest days of the year, and I was getting over another heartbruise. Not a break, exactly, not even a sprain (I have now concluded), but yet another weirdness in a three-year series of weirdnesses after a drought of even longer. The kind of weirdness that starts you wondering what's wrong with [members of the sex to which you are attracted], and ends with you deciding that there must be something wrong with you.

So there I was on the Metro platform with my book and my pretty grownup clothes... and I noticed a handsome young man looking at me from a little ways down the platform. I gave him my "Hello, nice stranger" smile and went back to my book. A minute later I looked up and he was still watching me. This time I did the "Please don't be crazy" smile--and kept reading. The train came, we both got on the car, and he was still staring! I tried to read my book, but I kept shooting furtive glances at him and then looking away when he caught me.

We must have played that junior-high game for five minutes before I decided "The heck with this" and, with an internal sigh, asked him about the slogan on his T-shirt. Then he asked me about my book, and we fell into a conversation that lasted the duration of the train ride, the escalator ride, and the walk to my bus stop. Knowing that the bus would come any minute, I did something I've never done before:

I wrote down my name and number on a scrap of paper and handed it to him, saying, "There are some cool new bars where I live. If you want to get drinks sometime, give me a call... OH! Unless you're seeing someone! Are you seeing someone?" (Yeah, 10 points for style.) I walked away grinning, thinking he would never call but it would make a great story for the Monday lunchroom.

Well, he called. And that Friday we had the most awkward first date in romantic history--certainly the most awkward ever to have a second date. It began with a geographic mishap that had us on opposite sides of the city, and ended with me having to invite him back to sleep at our house (on a spare bed, people!) when the bus stranded him in my neighborhood.

And yet, there was a second date. And a third. And suddenly it was impossible to imagine getting through a week--or even a few days--without seeing the guy I'd picked up on the Metro.

Dog Is My Copilot

Linus serves as Chief Navigator for his birthday trip to his grandparents' house.

Why I've been gone so long...

I wish I had a dramatic tale of sudden change, disaster or elation to explain my thoroughly inexcusable absence for the past two and a half months. The truth, as lame as it is, is that I've been... busy. Busy doing stuff like this:



... and this:



So, that's it, really. A couple of Emergency Sewing Projects (ESPs) and my sudden transformation into a documentary filmmaker chewed all my free time to bits. It's been a lot of fun working on them, but I'm ready to get back to a more normal schedule now. And resume posting about the Mighty Linus, of course.

Speaking of, guess who celebrated his first birthday two weeks ago! Video of the festivities shortly to follow!

Garden cooking

So I have this little postage-stamp garden, planted from the example of a green-thumbed friend in Winston-Salem (who was one of my visitors last month and who chided me for under-watering my tomatoes, but that's another story). It contains a mismash of herbs and vegetables, some planted with a definite culinary purpose, some for amusement--like "Simon Gardenfunkel" here:

Pop quiz: what could these four herbs possibly be?

...and some just because I have romantic childhood associations with the names. The lemon verbena bush falls into the last category. Lemon verbena was supposedly Laura Ingalls Wilder's favorite scent (according to a source I totally can't remember right now) and another word for the verbena family (confusingly NOT related to lemon verbena) is vervaine, which is the surname of one of my favorite supporting characters in one of my favorite books ever.

The plant itself is an unassuming shrub with a glorious lemony-floral smell. Because the species is native to warmer climates, mine will probably die this fall unless I can find a place for it inside--so I've been searching for ways to preserve its lovely flavor.

After tinkering a bit in the kitchen (and let me tell you, it can get downright dangerous in there!), I hit on the idea of combining lemon verbena with the blackberries that are so plentiful in farmers' markets right now. The lemon flavor is not obvious, discernible mostly through its scent and lingering aftertaste, like a faint but delicious memory of your favorite summer.

Without further ado, I give you:

Megan's Blackberry Nostalgia Sauce

(with thanks to Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything and to Rebekah for her excellent taste in cookbooks)

• 2 cups fresh blackberries. Buy these from a farmers' market, if at all possible. You will need 2-3 of the little square boxes laughably called "pints."
• 1/2 cup water
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1 Tb cornstarch dissolved in 1 Tb water
• At least 9 large lemon verbena leaves. You can see from the picture above that they grow around the stem in threes; I clipped off a stem below the third full-size trefoil and included all the leaves, even the little baby ones, in the pot. Add more leaves if you want a stronger lemon flavor.

Place all ingredients in a heavy-bottomed, medium-sized saucepan and bring to a simmer over medium heat. Once the mixture is gently bubbling, simmer on low. Stir constantly, mushing blackberries with a wooden spoon or potato masher:

After sauce has thickened (about 10 mins), remove from heat and pour into a strainer that has been set over a bowl or other container. Continue crushing blackberry mixture until all liquid is extracted and only skin and seeds remain in strainer. (You could also use cheesecloth and squeeze the mixture to get the most sauce-y goodness possible, but be careful not to burn yourself.):

Yields: Oh, I dunno. A cup or two, I guess.

You can eat this over ice cream, but it would be especially nice on pound cake or some other base that won't overwhelm the delicate flavor of the lemon verbena. Bon appetit!

Coming next:
Pesto for a Broken Heart!

Pupdate #19 (Summer of love)

Hello! Linus and I have been enjoying one of the benefits of living in a destination city: friend visits! Not only is Washington DC much more likely to attract out-of-town guests than Winston-Salem, it is also much more convenient to public transportation. Ergo, our last few weeks have been occupied with friends traveling from up and down the coast to ogle the monuments and coo over Linus.

This week, however, Hotel Megan closed its doors for maintenance and I have been busy washing sheets and replacing stolen ashtrays (just kidding, guys!).

One of our guests, Linus's Aunt Katieberry,* lived in Vietnam for several years. I used the fact that one of the featured cultures was the Mekong River to persuade her to visit in time for the Smithsonian Folklife Festival. THEN she found out that one of her acquaintances was one of the translators for the Festival! We all experienced the cultural opportunities in different ways: I admired the silk weavers,



Katie revisited the happy days of her Southeast Asian sojourn, and Linus ate a chopstick.

We walked further down the Mall with Katieberry, who'd never been to DC before, and got a classic hippie picture of her with her puppy nephew:

A quick swing to the north took us to the White House, simultaneously the highlight and nadir of New York Liberal Katie's trip.

KATIE: Damn you for destroying my country!
LINUS: Who is this crazy lady and why is she holding my leash? Please don't arrest me.

Afterwards, Katie wrote some very nice things about her trip. All I have to say is, the world would be a better place if everyone performed Child's Pose more often.

PS. Sorry the pictures are being weird. Blogger and Flickr are either feuding, or conspiring against me. And I left all my HTML brains at work today.
_____________________
*I can only call her that behind her back!

Pupdate #18 (Have puppy, will pedal!)

Linus and I are both sturdy walkers and we have found a lot to explore in the three-mile radius surrounding our neighborhood. A girl and her puppy can only go so far on foot, however, and DC is a big and exciting place. We could be having even MORE fun if we were more mobile. So in order to overcome this challenge and fulfill a long-held dream,* two weeks ago I purchased a Burley trailer from the friendly folks at Capitol Hill Bikes.

Linus doesn't love it yet--our rides are punctuated by a persistent whine that ranges from "Hey, pay attention to me" to "I am an entire litter of HELPLESS PUPPIES being SKINNED ALIVE" (a sound guaranteed to draw attention from all in hearing range). But I have determined that this trailer is the key to infinite adventure--doggy happy hours! parks! camping trips!--and so, he will LEARN to love it. The Puppy-Mommy has spoken.

Here he is in the trailer, looking deceptively happy:

And here is a suitably patriotic picture of him meditating on the wonders of representative democracy:

Hope y'all had a fantastic Fourth!

__________________________
* And by "long-held," I mean, "Conceived about a day after I traded my car for a three-quarters-dead puppy."

Pupdate #17 (making new friends)

THE SCENE: An ordinary morning on Trinidad Avenue

LINUS: Hi, Sparky. Hi, Dozer. How are you guys?

SPARKY: This is MY yard. I'M the boss here!

LINUS: Says who? Dozer's an awful lot bigger than you are.

SPARKY: Ha. Dozer can't hear you. He's deaf--it happens in white dogs sometimes. See: YOUR MOTHER WAS A PUG AND YOUR FATHER LOVES CATS!!

Ha! No answer. I, on the other hand, have unusually acute hearing thanks to a genetic anomaly that attached my ears BACKWARDS. Behold, the power of my BIONIC RIGHT EAR:

LINUS: Umm, okay. I have to go threaten the Six-Pound Hellhounds now. Catch you later.

SPARKY: Fine. Leave. This is MY YARD! I'M the boss!!

Later that day...

LINUS: Heyyy... where's Sparky?

DOZER: ZZZZZzzzz... oh hi, Linus. Sparky's under house arrest for digging up the garden.

LINUS: You can hear! Why do you pretend to be deaf?

DOZER: You would too, if you had to share a yard with Sparky all the time.

LINUS: Good point.

Pupdate #16 (Linus puts his work gloves on)

The Trinidad neighborhood in NE DC gets a bad rap, but the truth is that there are many beautifully maintained early 20th c. townhouses and charming postage-stamp gardens in our area. In an attempt to hop on the bandwagon--and excited at finally living in a place that has a yard--I began Memorial Day buying and potting plants for a small container garden in the front yard. Our yard now boasts:

• Basil
• Tomatoes (Roma and Patio)
• Mexican roses (Portulaca)
• Lemon thyme
• Lemon verbena

I have a whole bag of potting soil left over, so I might go crazy (or is that grow crazy? Ha!) and buy some more plants...maybe mint and parsley so I can have fresh tabbouleh all summer. And maybe some cucumbers for gazpacho. Mmm....

Of course, Linus did his bit to help:

He's so "handy"!

I also celebrated the holiday by biking to the Mall (I still find it trippy to be living so close to Monument Central) and watching my crazy dad and his crazy friends march in the parade on Constitution Avenue:

Then I shopped. Really, all my Memorial Day lacked was burgers and watermelon.

Pupdate #15 (arrival)

We're here!!!

We spent our last weeks in Winston-Salem in a blur of cleaning, packing and good-byes, with Linus taking the chance to say good bye to his very favorite vet, Dr G:



As for the move itself, I must say it was the best-organized of my peripatetic career. Then again, that may not be saying very much considering how stressful moving is and how bad I am at organizing concrete objects. Of course, I had a little help:

Believe me, one roll of waxed paper was a small price to pay for fifteen minutes of quiet puppy!

Pupdate #14 (Bring your puppy to work day!)

As a present for Linus's half-birthday last month, Munchkin Girl* and I brought him to the Marketing Office on campus and made him Chairpup of the Board for a day. He took his supervisory role very seriously and helped us roll out some new initiatives at the day's board meeting. Here is a day in the life of a working dog:

Chairpup believes in powerful first impressions.
He arrives in style, courtesy of Munchkin Girl Limo & Sedan Service, to be greeted by his adoring subjects.


Pup-ularity is a full time job!
Chairpup receives hundreds of e-mails each day.

Chairpup is known for his high standards.
Here, he reviews a press release waiting for publication.

Munchkin Girl attempts to explain that her gifts lie in organizing, not writing...

...but Chairpup says NEIN!!!

After Munchkin Girl rushes off in tears at disappointing her beloved but demanding supervisor, Chairpup is forced to make his own photocopies.

Fortunately, they reconcile in time for the much-anticipated board meeting, where Chairpup unveils his daring new strategy:

DECREASE CATS
INCREASE BONES


All in a day's work.

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* not because she is short, but because of her TOTALLY AWESOME Munchkin-voice rendition of "Sweet Child of Mine," which forever sealed my determination to be her friend.

Pupdate #13 (See Linus catch!)

Again, with the no posting! Here's a video to tide you over. This is us in the local park, polishing Linus's "catch" skills. We got kicked off the tennis courts one time too many (useless sport!), so I've taken to putting him on a 20' lead and working with him in the open grassy area. It's a good system most of the time, until Linus sees something he wants and forgets that he's still on a leash, hurling himself to the end of the line and then wha-BAM! turning into a canine tetherball.

Sorry for the the long silence, folks. I've been busy GETTING A JOB!

Yes, I have found a theater company in Washington, DC that is actually willing to hire me to sell their shows, run their blog, and be an all-round marketing and internet lackey. So Linus and the cats can continue with their gourmet pet food habit and I have Saturdays off for the first time in three years. I can't wait!!

But wait! My story gets better. A college theater buddy has just recently bought a house in the Trinidad neighborhood of Northeast DC with his wife... a house that conveniently features a finished basement with separate entrance. And is three miles away from the theater I'll be working at. Oh, and did I mention that they love dogs? It's perfect! The only downside is that Nate the Great is highly allergic to cats, so Pepper and Brenin will have to live with my parents in Maryland until I can find a permanent place for myself and the menagerie.

More posts soon. We celebrated Take-Your-Puppy-to-Work Day the other week, and the pictures are fabulous.